Thursday, January 08, 2009

9th and Hennepin

Besides Sudoku and longneck steamer clams, the significant discovery of the last year was Tom Waits. Listening to his music and his gravelly, late-night voice answered some deep-seated need for music that goes beyond the standard pop-chart fare that you normally listen to on a daily basis. I feel compelled to post this song. It's a whole story, a film, a night for an insomniac, a dream, the last course of a great meal..and maybe in a year or two I will outgrow it as being too gimmicky, too dissatisfied or too something else. But for now, I am happy to listen to this stuff.

Well it's Ninth and HennepinAll the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutesAnd the moon's teeth marks are on the skyLike a tarp thrown all over thisAnd the broken umbrellas like dead birdsAnd the steam comes out of the grillLike the whole goddamn town's ready to blow...And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoosAnd everyone is behaving like dogsAnd the horses are coming down Violin RoadAnd Dutch is dead on his feetAnd all the rooms they smell like dieselAnd you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept hereAnd I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairwayAnd I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat...And no one brings anything small into a bar around hereThey all started out with bad directionsAnd the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear"One for every year he's away", she saidSuch a crumbling beauty, ahThere's nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won't fixShe has that razor sadness that only gets worseWith the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going byAnd the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet'til you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruinAnd you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen...And I've seen it all, I've seen it allThrough the yellow windows of the evening train...